Friday, October 19, 2012

A few weeks ago we kept Kaede off school because she had
been up all night coughing and looked generally unwell.We still had to take Nate to school, so as she
walked past Kaede’s classroom The Mrs spoke to her teacher, told her the
situation and that was that.Or so we
thought.

A week later we received a letter from her school, Our Lady
of Perpetual Motion, which said the following:“We do not appear to
have received a letter concerning Kaede’s absence on the Wed 3/10/12.WE would be grateful if you could complete
the tear-off slip below, stating the reason for absence, and return it to
school as soon as possible.If no
absence slip is received by the school then, unfortunately, the absence will be
registered as unauthorised.”

Well they wanted a letter and a letter they got:

Further to your letter dated 10 October 2012 querying
Kaede’s absence from school on 3 October 2012 and further absence of a letter
explaining said absence.

On the day in question my Wife made the heinous error of
actually informing Miss ****** in a verbal face to face type fashion that Kaede
would indeed be absent on that day and the reasons for that absence.Unfortunately I was not at the morning drop-off
as I had stayed behind to look after Kaede.If I had of been present I would have patiently explained to my wife
that she should have stood outside the school office and rung the school phone
number to report Kaede’s absence.Of
course, it now seems that that also would have been erroneous as a letter is
now required for a single days absence.

Firstly I apologise for the lack of a hand written letter
but unfortunately my calligraphy skills leave a lot to be desired.In fact they have oft been likened to the
trail a diarrheatic spider leaves as he crawls towards a toilet.

The reasons for Kaede’s absence from school on 3 October
2012 can be simply explained but I feel that, due to my previously mentioned
administrative error, you deserve a full explanation for said absence.I hope the following will be indeed that.

Kaede was born on 23 February 2005, it was rather a cold and
wet day, and in fact at one point we actually had snow.This prompted, a rather rash one as it turned
out, a suggestion by myself that we should give her the middle name of Yukionna
– which means ‘snow fairy’ in Japanese.Despite the copious amounts of gas and air, pethidine and adrenaline
running through my Wife’s system, she still had the good sense to verbally slap
me down for the idiot I was obviously being.To this day Kaede remains middle name free.

Five days later we brought Kaede home for the first time, it
was a joyous day for all of us.Well I
say all of us, Kaede cried a lot and when she did smile I actually think it was
wind, although I didn’t tell her mother that, sometimes it’s best not to
shatter illusions too early.

The first six months were hectic, of course they were, but
we struggled on through with the dangled promise of a night of uninterrupted
sleep on the horizon – that day never came.From aged six months Kaede would cough throughout the night, waking
first herself and then us up.As is the
want of anxious parents, we took Kaede to our local GP and we were prescribed
the first of many liquid paracetamol prescriptions.After a further six months I was actually
convinced that she drank more paracetamol than milk, although I’m sure that’s
an exaggeration on my part.

From aged 12 to 24 months we saw a plethora of Doctors (I
once read that the collective for a bunch of Doctors was a Quack of Doctors but
I remain unconvinced as to the veracity of that), all of whom had a different
explanation as to her ill-health.Six
different explanations with only one thing in common – the problem was not of
their speciality.Kaede became the
equivalent of a human pass-the-parcel with your reward being a hacking two year
old.

It was at aged two that fate and the NHS finally shone on
us.Upon witnessing my Wife’s near-on
physical breakdown in the surgery reception, a kindly old Doctor finally
recommended a specialist in chest and lungs and arranged an appointment.We attended this appointment with not much
hope in our hearts, after all we had had the health carrot dangled in front of
us before.Like doubting-Thomas’s we
trudged into the room only to find the light at the end of the tunnel.Kaede had a form of acid reflux that began
with G and had too many vowels in it.The acid had been creeping up from her stomach as she slept and like an
unwelcome traveller in a disused car park, started to camp out in Kaede’s
lungs.With the help of one pill, taken
thrice daily for two weeks, she was all but cured.She had to remain on antibiotics for a solid
two years, but eventually all was good and she started to sleep through the
night.

All this leads to the night of 2 October 2012, an evening
that started as normal but soon went to hell in a hand-cart.At approximately 20.17 I heard a slight cough
emanating from Kaede’s bedroom.It was
only a slight cough and your average parent probably would not have heard
it.We are not average parents however
and despite the slightly high volume of the TV (we were watching Boardwalk
Empire and it can be a little loud in places) we sat up like a pair of
hyperactive meerkats.I placed my hand
on my Wife’s arm to calm her, reduced the volume on the TV and cocked an ear
towards the front room door.

There it was again, definitely a cough and definitely Kaede.

I trudged up the stairs with some reluctance it must be
said, fearing the worst but trying to remain optimistic, it may have been a
dust-bunny or something.I sat outside
Kaede’s door playing Angry Birds on my iPhone to pass the time (with the volume
off of course) and waited to see how bad it would get.The cough persisted and started to get louder
and chestier.I started to fear that her
old illness was back, although the chances were thatit was because she had been running around
the garden without a coat on despite being told to put one on four times.

We administered the standard duo of cough mixture and paracetamol
suspension and crossed our fingers.By
22.00 the coughing still hadn’t stopped, it wasn’t at an alarming level but
just enough to keep her awake.She slept
with my wife in the family bed that night, with myself decamping to the sofa
bed we have downstairs (a sofa bed that was bought with exactly these
situations in mind).

Both my Wife and Kaede had a sleepless night that night
(which may explain my Wife’s mistake in actually telling the teacher face to
face what the problem was with Kaede) and we decided that Kaede should stay at
home that day and try to catch up on some sleep.Her cough seemed to have improved and we felt
that a day of rest and maybe some educational television, such as the Discovery
or History Channel, would do her the world of good.This was indeed the case and she steadily
improved throughout the day.

My Wife and I had a rather frank discussion that night and
we decided that unless we had a repeat of the previous night, Kaede could
return to school the following day.A
quick perusal of your attendance records will show you that Kaede did, in fact,
attend school the next day as we did not have a repeat performance of the
previous nights coughing.

I hope this letter is sufficient for your records, in fact
it may be a good idea to carefully glue it to the front of her file, thereby
saving me the trouble of explaining what we call ‘The Sleepless Coughing Years’
again.If you have any further questions
or if there is anything else you need explained regarding this unfortunate
situation, please, please, do not hesitate to write to me and ask.I have also decided to carry a pad of Post-it
notes with me at all times, this way I can write the reasons for any future
absences on them and hand the note straight to you.

Jamie Harding,
Parent of Kaede Harding.
Well one of them, she has two.
The other being my wife Patricia Harding.

Monday, October 15, 2012

So I’m running, I can’t hear them coming but I know they
are.I stupidly turn around and they’re
even nearer now, a row of snarling stone teeth.The weeping angels are catching me.Thankfully I wake up, cursing my daughter for making me watch Doctor Who
again.

But my god, the pain in my chest, it feels like one of the
kids are sitting on me.I sit up and
check, it’s not unheard of for one of them to jump on me as a loving wake up
call.Nope, no kids, just an incredible
heavy pain across my upper chest.Now
I’m worried.

Could the dream really have given me a heart attack, however
mild?A more likely alternative was
surely the ox-cheek curry I made last night, not crazy hot but nice and
spicy.I decided to sleep it off.

Having nodded off I then dreamt I was sharing a pint with a
somewhat pissed David Cameron, a captive audience as he lectured me on the
necessity of economic prudence.To be
honest I would rather have the weeping angels back.

Again I wake.I take
a deep breath, hold it and hope.Nope,
still in pain and now a healthy dose of panic has been thrown into the
mix.Of course it was heartburn, it had
to be, but I started to wonder about how many people ignored the first signs of
a heart attack purely because they had eaten a curry the night before?Maybe the curry was giving a false negative,
as it were?I mean, having a curry can’t
be a cure or preventative to having a heart attack can it?

But still, my irrational overriding worry was that if I did
go to the hospital and it did turn out to be heartburn, well, then I would
forever be known as a Sean.Sean is a
close friend of mine who called an ambulance when he had a heart attack only to
be given a Rennie at A&E.And of
course we let him forget about it, not.

I didn’t really want to tell the Mrs, she’s not exactly
known to be a calming influence in these situations and when she caught me
clutching my chest as I was getting dressed, she reacted with a predictable but
vaguely acceptable level of drama.She
suggested that she should Google the symptoms and on the basis I wanted some
peace and quiet whilst I got ready, I acquiesced.When I went downstairs 15 minutes later all
she had found out was that Jo had posted yet another cute picture of
Tallhulabelle McLilly and Phil the Postboy’s piles were playing up.God bless Facebook, the medical almanac of
the brain-dead.

She then quietly reminded me that we were due at church this
morning and for once I didn’t complain, I figured I would need all the help I
could get.

Upon arrival we sat ourselves down in a fairly empty pew,
all the better for me to nod off in, with the only witness to my upcoming
blasphemy being Michelle and her daughter.Looking around the church I noticed how many stone angels there actually
were in the church and I felt the pain in my chest starting to increase.I started to think that coming to church was
a bad idea, then Josie and the J’s turn up like a pack of cartoon cats
fighting, and I knew it was.

The priest walked in and the place began to sound like a
Hendrix concert, well the feedback did anyway.His radio mike clearly clashing with his hearing aid and I watched a
hundred pensioners rock out and adjust their own earpieces.

It was during the first reading, Marks gospel to Leviticus –
“May he with the most pious face cast the first stare” – that I had my own epiphany.I would consume a load of things that could
potentially make heartburn worse, if the pain increased then the problem was
heartburn, if it didn’t then it was obviously time for a trip to A&E.

After a quick search of Binggle I had my list of consumables
and, with the help of a trip to TFI Thursdays, I started on my painful voyage
of discovery.

I started with a large vodka and bitter lemon with a pint of
Budweiser to wash it down.Ordering a
large plate of JD Buffalo wings, French fries and onion rings, I felt guilt
free, safe in the knowledge that I was conducting a medical experiment that
could save my life.Washing all that lot
down with a Bloody Mary I ordered dessert, the Chocolate Mountain of Dairy
Surprise (the surprise being the amount they charged for it).I contentedly patted my now distended stomach
(OK, even more distended) and awaited the results of my experiment.

I lay here now, it’s 2am and thankfully I’m in my own bed
rather than the hospitals.The pain got
worse, of course it did, so now I’ve settled for the old fashioned remedy for
heartburn – Pepto Bismol and JD, over ice of course.

*AFTERWORD*

Just in case I was wrong, thanks for reading me over all
these years.Please leave loads of
really complimentary comments about how my writing changed your life and put a
never-ending smile on that cute old face of yours, my grieving family would no
doubt appreciate it.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

A couple of weeks ago those lovely people at Phillips asked
me if I wanted to try out an ice cream maker.Being the dutiful husband that I am, I checked with the wife first,
although unfortunately I did so within earshot of the mini-monsters.

ME: Do we want an ice
cream maker?
THE MRS: What kind of ice cream maker?
KIDS: Ice cream?
ME: The kind that makes ice cream of
course.
THE MRS: I mean what make is it?
KIDS: Ice Cream?
ME: Does it matter?
THE MRS: Of course it does.
KIDS: Ice Cream?
ME: Aren’t they all the same?
THE MRS: Nope. So again, what make is
it?
KIDS: Ice Cream?
ME: Gaggia
THE MRS: Get it. Now.
KIDS: ICE CREAM

So I kindly took them up on their offer as I feared my life
would be in danger if I didn’t.A few
days later my Gaggia Gelatiera ice cream maker turned up and, like a kid at
Christmas, I hastily ripped it out of its box.It has its own refrigeration unit which is good news if you want your
ice cream nice and quick and want to dispense with all that ‘freeze
ingredients, mix together and freeze again’ type nonsense you get with other
machines.As long as your ingredients
are cool when you put them in, then you get ready to eat ice cream in 30
minutes, perfect.The bad news was that
that meant I couldn’t instantly start using the machine for a sneaky ice cream session
whilst the kids where at school as, with all fridges, you have to let them
settle first.

Later that evening, after the kids had gone to bed, I
decided to get going with a basic vanilla ice cream.I’ve posted the recipe at the bottom of the
blog (as I will with all the ones I mention) but it’s pretty simple stuff to be
honest.The only prep that took any time
at all was letting the milk cool down after you had placed the seeds from a
vanilla pod in it and brought it to a boil.Fiveteen minutes later I was pouring the contents into the Gaggia (after
letting the unit pre-freeze itself for a whopping 5 minutes) and 30 minutes
after that I was eating some of the best vanilla ice cream I had ever tasted.The Mrs thought it was better than
‘restaurant’ ice cream and really rich (something she never says about me).

The next night after an afternoon of very loud coercion from
the kids, I decided to make them some.One problem, I had forgotten to buy any eggs.No worries, the instruction manual had a
quite simple ‘no egg ice cream’ recipe, so simple that the only difference was
not adding the eggs.It is at this stage
that I must admit my ice cream ignorance, up until the day before I didn’t even
realise that you put eggs in ice cream.But now that I did know, well, I was slightly worried about how the
egg-free version was going to turn out.Well I needed have worried, it turns out like the ice cream you get from
the ice cream vans, just with more substance.The kids were mad for it and I was duly christened ‘The best Dad in the
world - ever – again’.Music to my ears.I tasted some myself and preferred it to the
egg version if I’m quite honest.I’ve
never really been an egg person anyway, I always thought that Humpty Dumpty had
got what he deserved.

The next thing on the to-make list was sorbet. I’m a massive lover of the stuff and will
always pick it ahead of ice cream, nothing better than a tangy lemon
sorbet.3 lemons, some sugar, some water
and 30 minutes later – Ta da – lemon sorbet tangy enough to make you pull the ‘Priest
hearing a dirty joke’ face.

Days later as I was planning my next ice cream, I realised
that I hadn’t taken any pictures of my creations to adorn this piece and when
you see the pictures I did end up taking you will see why.Our camera is great for underwater and action
shots, not so good for arty beautiful food ones.So please forgive, I tried my best and then I
gave up.

A firm favourite of The Mrs is raspberry ripple and I felt
sufficiently confident to give it a whirl.I used the eggless ice cream recipe, throw out the vanilla, halved the
sugar and added some blitzed up raspberries that I kept in a separate pot.As the ice cream started to solidify I slowly
poured the raspberries in and hoped for the best.

Well as you can see, it didn’t exactly look like the
traditional raspberry ripple, but by god it tasted awesome.After further research, (I asked one of the
Mums in the playground) I realised my mistake – I should have taken the ice
cream out earlier, swirled the juice in and then left it to set in the freezer,
better luck next time and all that.

In my quest to find some new and slightly unusual flavours I
picked the brains of Kate (the aforementioned raspberry ripple expert whose
food blog is at http://foodcentric.blogspot.co.uk/
.)Amongst other things, she suggested
strawberry and basil ice cream which definitely fit in the strange but yummy
category that I was looking for.I tore
a big bunch of basil leaves up and threw them into the heated milk and let it
all cool down.I then whizzed up a load
of strawberries (I know, you’re astounded by my high levels of accuracy) and
threw them into the cream, halved the sugar and that was that.

What a taste-bud surprise.I knew what was coming my way yet still my tongue did a little dance of
confusion with the first mouthful.My
wife however found it was not exactly to her taste, a ‘little bit too adult’
don’t you know.Personally I feel this
is the fault of her taste buds, she has what doctors call ‘Lucozade-tongue’ and
therefore has the palette of a Chilean miner.

I now seem to have become an ice cream monster, I spend
hours daydreaming about new recipes and concoctions and it’s all Gaggia’s
fault.This machine is an absolute dream
to work with, no mucking around pre-freezing stuff, or waiting around for a
mixture to freeze.I’m yet to find a
lump of ice or frozen milk in anything yet, it’s delivered a perfect smooth mix
every time.It’s fast, it comes with a
separate removable bowl for when you want to make larger batches of ice cream
and it’s easy to clean (especially if you bribe one of the kids to do it with
the promise of more ice cream.)I
started this trial wondering if an ice cream maker was really necessary and I’m
now fully convinced, especially when it comes to the kids.I can control the amount of sugar going in it
(I normally halve it), I know the eggs used are free-range and as long as I
have some milk and cream in the house I can shut them up within delicious ice
cream that takes 30 minutes to make – perfect.

I have to thank Phillips, Gaggia and Sam from Ketchum Pleon
for providing me with the Gaggia Gelatiera but I do have an apology to make - I
can’t return the machine because a magpie swooped through an open kitchen
window and flew away with it, honest.

Scrape the seeds from the vanilla pod and add to the milk in
a small saucepan, almost bring to the boil, remove from the heat and allow to
cool for 15 mins.Mix the yolks with the
sugar and salt, beating until well blended.Then add the milk and cream.Pour
into the pre-cooled ice cream maker and set the timer for 30 minutes.

Lemon Sorbet

3 large lemons
180g sugar
250g of water

Grate the peel of half a lemon and then juice all three
lemons.Mix all the ingredients
together.Pour into the pre-cooled ice
cream maker and set the timer for 30 minutes.